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The Power of Pure ExpressionSat, 16 Sep 2017 21:48:20 +0000en-UShourly1https://wordpress.org/?v=4.8.2Let’s Be Clear Who Won in 2016http://unfetteredexpression.com/culture/lets-clear-won-2016/
http://unfetteredexpression.com/culture/lets-clear-won-2016/#respondSat, 16 Sep 2017 21:48:20 +0000http://unfetteredexpression.com/?p=1693I approach my favorite bench at the Hoboken waterfront, happy to sit down and read for a little while with a cup of coffee at my side. The bench is empty and so I plop down. As I sip my coffee, I hear the guy on the next bench. “Old woman. Why does it have […]

I approach my favorite bench at the Hoboken waterfront, happy to sit down and read for a little while with a cup of coffee at my side. The bench is empty and so I plop down. As I sip my coffee, I hear the guy on the next bench.

“Old woman. Why does it have to be an old woman sitting next to me?”

It takes me a moment to realize he is referring to me. I don’t react, as clearly that would serve him well. So he raises the volume on his voice.

“Old woman. Old woman. Damn old woman. Why couldn’t a young one sit next to me? Fucking old woman.”

Now I have to physically steel myself from visibly reacting. Gorgeous day. People all around. Get out your iPad and read just like you were planning to do.

A few minutes pass. I’m reading. An attractive young woman jogs by.

“Now why couldn’t SHE sit next to me? Hot. Young. We need more of those around here.”

As it happens, I’m simultaneously immersed in reading What Happened, the of-the-moment memoir by Hillary Clinton. Also, as it happens, I am on the part of the book where Clinton talks about the pointed distinction she draws between sexism and misogyny:

When a husband tells his wife, “I can’t quite explain why and I don’t even like admitting this, but I don’t want you to make more money than me, so please don’t take that amazing job offer,” that’s sexism. He could still love her deeply and be a great partner in countless ways. But he holds tight to an idea that even he knows isn’t fair about how successful a woman is allowed to be. Sexism is all the big and little ways that society draws a box around women and says, “You stay in there.” … We can all buy into sexism from time to time, often without even noticing it. … Misogyny is something darker. It’s rage. Disgust. Hatred. It’s what happens when a woman turns down a guy at a bar and he switches from charming to scary. Or when a woman gets a job that a man wanted and instead of shaking her hand and wishing her well, he calls her a bitch and vows to do everything he can to make sure she fails.

At that point the misogynist on the next bench watches a lean man with a bunch of tattoos running by and begins ranting again.

“Fags. Fucking fags. So many fucking fags. And bisexuals. Really? You’re not a man. You’re not a man.”

Once I get past the desire to tell this guy to go fuck himself, I start wishing I could find a way to ask him who he voted for. Had he been sitting on benches doing this for years, or had he been emboldened by the election of Donald Trump? Yes, my own conjured up narrative, but this just brings home so clearly what many Trump supporters still don’t understand. To us this isn’t as much about who lost as about who won.

They still don’t get that when Trump won, this dope on a bench won. You know who else won? White supremacists. Just ask them. They’ve been on the record about it. You know who else won? Bad cops. Reference the President’s speech when he told them to rough up people in custody. Har-dee-har-har. Back slap. Who else won? Women who are more comfortable with men in charge won. Wealthy people who put portfolio over conscience won. Shoppers who are threatened when they hear someone speaking another language in Walmart won. Homophobes won. People who want to tell a woman they’ve never met that she has to carry a pregnancy to term won. Fans of putting up walls to solve problems won.

And oh yeah, the misogynists won. There isn’t a glossier prize for them than Donald Trump, is there? A man who bragged about grabbing pussies and went on to become President? They hit the mother lode. And he found a woman, no less, to carry out his agenda of letting more misogynists have their way on college campuses. Because, you know, sexual assault is horrifying on “both sides.”

One of the reasons I walked down to the waterfront with my book was because I was ready for a break from a productive morning that was then followed by an unsettling incident. I was in my first-floor apartment and I had heard a man screaming with rage, “Get in the car. I’m sick of the two of you and don’t want to hear another word from you.” I bolted up out of my chair and headed to the window. He was berating what appeared to be his wife and teen daughter.

“Shut up. Now.” He screamed that again and again. People were staring as they walked by.

I was on the verge of calling the police or asking if there was a problem because clearly they were afraid of him. The daughter shut the car door too loudly for him and he yelled, “You wanna try that again?” Tears were streaming down her face. I could see him still screaming once they were all in the car. At one point the daughter opened the door and he started pulling away knowing her legs were out of the car.

I felt paralyzed. I did nothing. I knew I would be wondering about them all day.

That’s when I decided to take a little break and read. Because all that kept flashing through my head was what kind of men that teen girl would date or what she might do to escape the rage. She is still so clear in my mind.

]]>http://unfetteredexpression.com/culture/lets-clear-won-2016/feed/0Make America White Againhttp://unfetteredexpression.com/culture/make-america-white/
http://unfetteredexpression.com/culture/make-america-white/#respondSun, 13 Aug 2017 03:17:16 +0000http://unfetteredexpression.com/?p=1688When a man opened fire in a Louisiana movie theater during a showing of Trainwreck a few years ago, Amy Schumer joined the fight for stricter gun laws. Even though the murderer didn’t invoke her name, the actor/comedian was horrified that this tragedy occurred during a movie she was in. She was disturbed at the […]

]]>When a man opened fire in a Louisiana movie theater during a showing of Trainwreck a few years ago, Amy Schumer joined the fight for stricter gun laws. Even though the murderer didn’t invoke her name, the actor/comedian was horrified that this tragedy occurred during a movie she was in. She was disturbed at the association.

Contrast that with our President’s reaction to David Duke’s words about Saturday’s alt-right and neo-Nazi rally in Charlottesville, Virginia: “We are going to fulfill the promises of Donald Trump. That’s what we believed in. That’s why we voted for Donald Trump, because he said he’s going to take our country back.”

Not only has Trump ignored that disgusting shout out, he couldn’t even bring himself to call out white supremacists or the Ku Klux Klan in his remarks following the violence. Instead, he decries violence “on many sides” and proceeds to inform us of all the jobs he’s created. As a nice flourish, he made sure we knew that racial tension was around before he took office.

Read: This is not my fault. I don’t consider it a priority. I didn’t cause it. And hey, we have lots to be happy about – jobs!

As sick as I am of this tedious man, I am getting more and more outraged at the people who put him in office.

Stop calling us racists. That’s all I’ve been hearing since November. And things like this: You’re calling me a homophobe, but I honestly don’t care if gay people get married.

Really? Do you think it’s reasonable to say that and then be just fine when he picks Pence and Sessions? It doesn’t add up.

You may not be a racist or a homophobe, but it sure doesn’t fall high on your list of what’s important when you’re choosing a leader. Maybe it’s time to own that in your defensiveness. And if you’re religious, maybe ask yourself how you see this as paving your path to the Promised Land.

This is where you pivot to Hillary, right?

You know why I’m particularly tired of that argument? Because way before it was Hillary you had a choice of an array of other infinitely more qualified and principled candidates and you chose this guy to represent the Republican party in a presidential election. You chose the guy who had people foaming at the mouth at his rallies at the thought of dispensing with the source of all their perceived problems as told to them by Fox News – LGBT people, immigrants, Muslims, African-Americans, women. People stealing jobs. People mooching off tax dollars. People of color getting into college. People not wanting to be grabbed by the genitals. People who want to pee in peace when they’re in Target.

You chose him way before you went into the booth and picked him over Hillary, so spare us all the rehash of Benghazi and emails.

You see where we are, right? If you’re white and you’ve ever called for a Muslim to denounce an extremist Muslim (as one of my creative writing students did not so long ago, much to my horror), but you didn’t denounce what happened in Charlottesville today, you’re done. You’ve lost your standing and your credibility in any intelligent argument.

Some have tried to divert the Charlottesville conversation to a first amendment issue. Of course the KKK has the right to express. The point is, most reasoned, humane citizens are appalled, even in awe, that so many white supremacists exist, traveling from far and wide to proudly proclaim themselves.

“The President’s comments today, again casting doubt on whether Russia was behind the blatant interference in our election and suggesting — his own intelligence agencies to the contrary — that nobody really knows, continue to directly undermine U.S. interests,” said California Rep. Adam Schiff, the top Democrat on the House Intelligence Committee.

Our President is abroad ripping on the American press and intelligence agencies. How do you call yourself a patriot, let alone the leader of a patriotic nation, and undermine the people serving this country in an intelligence capacity? Is he kidding me? Does he have any idea what they give up? Sacrifice? Go through?

AP writer Ken Thomas reminds us that when Mitt Romney criticized President Obama during the president’s 2012 trip to South Korea for making overtures to improve relations with Russia, it drew a stern rebuke from then House Speaker John Boehner, a fellow Republican, who said that “while the president is overseas, I think it’s appropriate that people not be critical of him or our country.”

What is happening? And we thought it was egregious when members of the Bush administration outed CIA operations officer Valerie Plame in 2003.

Let’s talk about the intricate structure that is our intelligence community. These people don’t wear uniforms or get parades or ceremonial welcomes. They don’t have people walking up to them in airports and thanking them for their service. They don’t have hundreds of foundations set up to help them and their families. They learn how to blend in, speak an array of languages, and stay a step ahead of the most brilliant technological minds on the planet. Their training includes acting and learning body language as a refined art. Many of them live quietly, have to lie about where they work. Many of them spend months and years gaining trust and establishing relationships in lands most of us wouldn’t think of setting foot in. They gather information that saves our lives every day.

Our intelligence personnel, like those in the military, are trained to serve whatever administration is in the White House. They even have to serve and protect the despicable human who is currently undermining their work aloud on foreign soil.

Is there a question who’s the better person? In that context, pick which one of these isn’t like the others:

a) Soldier

b) Secret Service agent

c) CIA operative

d) Donald Trump

Three of those are doing their jobs regardless of the challenges (obstacles?) being put before them. The other is flitting around signing executive orders he thinks are laws, Tweeting the inane meanderings of his brain, whining about his victimhood, and playing golf.

Incidentally, I believe it’s generally a good thing when our Presidents play golf. I’m not a believer in a 24/7 nose-to-grindstone pace, even in the presidency. They need to blow off steam. But this guy? All he does is blow off steam.

Send him packing. Find out if he’s committed treason and take him out in handcuffs. Or determine officially if his mental capacity makes him unfit for the job and escort him to a place where he can get help.

Make American Great Again? So absurd. Thanks to him, we’ve been diminished in the eyes of the world. And perhaps made a lot less safe in it.

]]>http://unfetteredexpression.com/living/fake-spies-really/feed/0In Search of Solacehttp://unfetteredexpression.com/advice/in-search-of-solace/
http://unfetteredexpression.com/advice/in-search-of-solace/#commentsSat, 01 Jul 2017 02:34:40 +0000http://unfetteredexpression.com/?p=1667I was hanging with a friend in Manhattan recently. We’ve never seen eye-to-eye politically and I prefer to simply avoid the subject. This was true more than ever last week because I had no idea where she stood on Donald Trump. And frankly, I thought it best that I not know. Yet at the end […]

]]>I was hanging with a friend in Manhattan recently. We’ve never seen eye-to-eye politically and I prefer to simply avoid the subject. This was true more than ever last week because I had no idea where she stood on Donald Trump. And frankly, I thought it best that I not know.

Yet at the end of our outing, with me about to descend subway steps to head home, somehow we were there. I made a passing comment about not sleeping well with Trump in the White House and my friend noted that half the country was sleeping very well and didn’t I get some solace from that?

That’s an unequivocal no.

Solace? What? Solace?

This has been working on me all week.

I am not getting solace from white supremacists sleeping better.

Or gun-toting fools who think the government is out to get them.

I get no solace from well-rested “Christians” who want to control whether or not a woman can decide for herself to have a baby, but not give a crap what happens once that child is here and needs real health care.

Solace is not my go-to when I think of all the self-loathing women who are immune to the actions and comments of a pussy-grabbing predator and felt it was OK to impose him on the rest of us. Glad they’re happily snoozing? No.

Solace? Please.

That Paul Ryan is sleeping better? And Mitch McConnell? Or Mike Pence? (Well, maybe not him. He’s probably tossing and turning a bit from openly selling his soul to be vice president and, well, he’s hired a lawyer for the rest).

I am getting no solace from duped Fox News viewers sleeping well as they place blame on people not like them for all the ills of the country.

Or the people who are “sick and tired” of apologizing for being white because, you know, those lucky gays, blacks, Muslims, Jews, Hispanics get all the preferential treatment and, you know, rights.

Solace because so many dolts who think it’s a victory to repeal Obamacare since they’re covered by the ACA are sleeping better? I don’t think so.

Where am I supposed to find the solace exactly?

The people who voted for Trump claiming it wasn’t about race, but about keeping our police forces safe? Oh, they’re sleeping better in spite of that utter contradiction in reasoning? No solace for me.

Should I be getting solace from the well-rested Trump supporters unfazed by his unhinged Tweets? Or those who are getting their zzzzzz’s in spite of how he’s defiling the presidency?

What could possibly be giving me solace about people sleeping well with this president in office?

I write this on the approach to Fourth of July weekend. It’s a time where we celebrate our country. This year it feels like we need to celebrate and mourn at the same time. What is patriotism anymore? It’s like the Statue of Liberty is swirling around a toilet bowl just waiting to be sucked down.

Not one thing I’ve ever written about Donald Trump has proven to be untrue. He is unfit to lead and is worse at this job than I could have ever imagined.

]]>http://unfetteredexpression.com/advice/in-search-of-solace/feed/4Obama: What Do You Want to Do?http://unfetteredexpression.com/living/obama-what-do-you-want-to-do/
http://unfetteredexpression.com/living/obama-what-do-you-want-to-do/#respondMon, 24 Apr 2017 20:37:06 +0000http://unfetteredexpression.com/?p=1654While we’re in the throes of “first 100 days” talk with our current President, there also seems to be a spate of articles and posts about how to best distract ourselves or outright escape from the disturbing news he’s generating. How caught up should we get in his expressed desire for a Purple Heart or […]

]]>While we’re in the throes of “first 100 days” talk with our current President, there also seems to be a spate of articles and posts about how to best distract ourselves or outright escape from the disturbing news he’s generating.

How caught up should we get in his expressed desire for a Purple Heart or his brag about giving Face the Nation its best ratings since 9/11 or his penchant for poking a stick at the man-child running North Korea?

We could let the daily anxiety overwhelm us or we could seek out better ways to live and contribute.

This, I hasten to add, is not easy. We are literally being led by a man who takes pride in not being intellectually curious. While so many of us aspire to be global citizens, he is happiest catering to the faction that goes the other way – wall us off, baby. Keep those suckers out.

Many of us are losing our minds. Meanwhile, every day there are those who scold the rest of us for letting politics interfere in our interactions when they have chosen to live with their heads immersed so far in the sand they seem to have lost hold on reality.

And then there’s Barack Obama. Class oozing out of his pores, he spoke for a bit but mostly facilitated a discussion at the University of Chicago today. The topic was civic engagement and young leadership. No red meat to be found here. The former President went with the Michelle credo and kept it “high.”

Maybe it was all that flying around with Richard Branson and hobnobbing in New York City that gave Obama a kind of calm so many of us wish we had right now. But make no mistake about it, he’s got a mission and he’s a patient man.

What struck me about this event was that it felt like the beginning of an exploration. It was Obama as engaged listener seeking input and insight about why young people as voters weren’t enthused. Did they feel discouraged, disempowered? Also, with the current divided media landscape, how can we create a common conversation?

As the six young people on the panel with him answered his questions and offered insights from their varied experiences, Obama took it all in. I saw him lean in closer a few times when he was hearing something that particularly impressed him and even brighten at one man’s mention of reading bell hooks. (See, this is the point where I want to insert a sarcastic comment about how it would go if you mentioned bell hooks to our current President. But I’m trying to go with that Michelle credo …).

So in that spirit, it is often the case in my daily life that I can feel the life coach part of me rise up and latch on to something that feels worth remembering and repeating to clients and, frankly, to myself. Wise bits that propel us forward.

Today that moment came when Obama spoke of the book he is writing about his political journey. He said that while going back to chronicle the one political race he lost (to Bobby Rush in the 2000 Democratic primary race for Ilinois’ 1st congressional district in the United States House of Representatives), he realized it was the one time he ran for office where he didn’t have a focused mission. He was simply doing it because it was the next thing. He extracted the lesson and imparted it.

“Worry less about what you want to be and worry more about what you want to do,” Obama said.

The line was followed by applause.

He gave some examples to demonstrate his point. One could aspire to hold a specific elected office or instead set out with goals like “I want to improve education in low-income neighborhoods” or “I want to deal with climate change and help save the planet.” See the difference? The former might be a nice accomplishment, but what do you do once you get into office? What do you want to do?

I really like mulling that question and potentially posing it to clients in this context. Why do you want to be a life coach, a dance instructor, a CEO? What do you want to do?

Maybe that is where we can take this fervent desire to distract ourselves from the current news cycle before the obsession consumes us. Zeroing in on that meaningful question will yield a far better result than festering in the madness.

]]>http://unfetteredexpression.com/living/obama-what-do-you-want-to-do/feed/0On O’Reilly, My Rage Spills Overhttp://unfetteredexpression.com/work/oreilly-rage-spills/
http://unfetteredexpression.com/work/oreilly-rage-spills/#commentsWed, 19 Apr 2017 20:37:56 +0000http://unfetteredexpression.com/?p=1648Last year shortly after New Year’s Day I was in the gym, doing some stretching. A long-time gym member, a guy in his 60s, came over and kissed me on the lips and said “Happy New Year.” It was abrupt. Caught me off guard. And it was unwelcome. If you asked him about it right […]

Last year shortly after New Year’s Day I was in the gym, doing some stretching. A long-time gym member, a guy in his 60s, came over and kissed me on the lips and said “Happy New Year.”

It was abrupt. Caught me off guard. And it was unwelcome.

If you asked him about it right now, he would probably say I liked it. You know why? I was ready to object in the moment and then I cowered. I felt like a weakling, but something in me wanted to just forget it and keep the peace. I see this guy almost every time I go to the gym.

Fast forward to last week. Yes, just six days ago. I was lifting weights and we got into a light conversation. He works in a service job, so I posed a scenario to him about how he would handle a certain situation with a customer.

“Simple,” he said while leering at my chest. “Show me your tits and you’ll get anything you want.”

If you know me at all, if you’ve read anything I’ve ever written, you’re saying, wow, here’s the part where the mighty Nancy cuts him off at the knees. But you’re going to be disappointed because I cowered again. I was so taken aback I was rendered speechless.

He took his swagger to the next weight machine while I berated myself. Again.

But then two other guys he knew got into a conversation with him and he declared with flirtatious bravado that he was going to slip into a shower with me, who was standing a few feet away. Incredulous, I shot him down in front of these guys. He laughed, but with an edge of disbelief.

“What?” he said.

I rolled my eyes and gave him a dismissive wave of my hand as I disengaged. Then I pounded the leg press machine into submission.

It’s worth noting that that’s a big part of this discussion, though. Why don’t women come forward sooner? Why do they keep it to themselves when something bothers them? Why don’t they just handle it in the moment?

Legitimate questions with a variety of answers depending on the situation. This guy at my gym has no hierarchical power over me. So what’s really at stake? Probably what I said earlier – keeping the peace. But it’s really not, is it? Do I sound peaceful right now? I am livid as my fingers fly over these keys.

Livid at the board member who picked me up at the airport when I was in my 20s and told me he wished he was that seatbelt wrapped around me. Livid at the evolved guy I worked for who imagined what I was doing in a bath tub. Livid at myself for swallowing my rage at all of it.

Once in the 1990s a co-worker made a joke about my breasts in front of other co-workers, all men. Back then my response was adrenaline-fueled – “If you ever make a comment about my body again, I will sue you for sexual harassment so fast your head will spin.” Sometimes I rise up, maybe when it’s done in front of others. I don’t know. I was shaking that day. And truly, I have been blessed to work with so many smart, kind, professional men over the course of my career.

In this O’Reilly case there’s talk of left wing conspiracy. Please. Like liberals spent the last decade-plus sending women into Fox New headquarters to bait the arrogant jerk. Why aren’t there millions being paid out in hush money in the names of Chris Wallace, Brit Hume, or Bret Baier? Why is O’Reilly the only “victim” in this grand scheme?

After seeing one of his ilk elected President and now experiencing the results of what it costs our country to let a privileged egomaniac have his way, I can’t help but feel some relief that O’Reilly has tumbled from his lofty perch. I imagine he’ll find another and continue to bloviate and treat women like they’re not his equals. Whatever.

]]>http://unfetteredexpression.com/work/oreilly-rage-spills/feed/4The New (Autistic) Girl on the Blockhttp://unfetteredexpression.com/culture/new-autistic-girl-block/
http://unfetteredexpression.com/culture/new-autistic-girl-block/#respondSun, 02 Apr 2017 11:38:05 +0000http://unfetteredexpression.com/?p=1641I walk into the dressing room at Nordstrom Rack, my teen niece in tow. She stops, puts out her hand, and addresses two middle-aged women standing in the aisle. “Tickle?” Gina says with a smile. I’m about to protest, but already one of the women is smiling back and lightly touching Gina’s wrist. She seems […]

]]>I walk into the dressing room at Nordstrom Rack, my teen niece in tow. She stops, puts out her hand, and addresses two middle-aged women standing in the aisle.

“Tickle?” Gina says with a smile.

I’m about to protest, but already one of the women is smiling back and lightly touching Gina’s wrist. She seems to immediately know she has encountered a child on the autism spectrum and is comfortable with it.

“It’s OK,” she says to me, sensing I’m not sure what to do. “I’m a teacher. And so is my friend.”

They engage Gina for a few minutes. I thank them and tell her to say good-bye before we head into a dressing room so I can try on some clothes.

Gina sits on the little bench in the stall, clearly excited to be hanging with Aunt Nancy and doing “girl” stuff while her mother, who is my sister, and a friend are still out among the racks in the store. Her arms are flapping in joy. On occasion, when I’ve picked her up and she’s in the passenger seat while I drive, the flapping lasts a while – so much glee, like I’ve sprung her from jail.

Oh, to know what’s happening in that brain of hers. My sister says that often and I concur. Sometimes you can’t help but marvel at something she’s figured out on Google Maps and other times you want to cry in frustration as she repeats something you’ve already addressed at least 10 times in the last half hour. It’s all part of the autism.

Once you get through the initial shock upon diagnosis, make your way through the countless Polly Positives telling you everything is going to be “just fine” with her development, and sink your teeth into the reality of what resources are available to you, what’s left is often exhaustion. Parents have just made their way through a maze, often one they’ve had to navigate with little help. If only they didn’t have to also try to educate everyone around them, too.

Enter Julia. She lives on Sesame Street. And I sure hope it’s for a long, long time.

As I watched a recent segment on 60 Minutes about the addition of a Muppet with autism, tears rolled down my face. There were highlights showing Julia flapping her arms, repeating herself, not responding when spoken to, and recoiling from too much noise. All of that was familiar to me. While no two children on the spectrum are the same, those traits are common to many.

Having Elmo and Abby Cadabby, and ultimately Big Bird, interact with Julia in such a matter-of-fact way felt astonishing and instantly valuable. One of the hardest things about watching an autistic child among others her age who are not on the spectrum is seeing their blank looks. They may know to be kind and invite her to hang out with them, but it can still be breathtaking or even heartbreaking to see the communication break down or never get off the ground. They simply don’t know what to do to play with her or talk to her.

The idea of children growing up and watching Julia on Sesame Street is uplifting because it’s about that ability of kids to relate to each other. Much like it’s easier to teach something like a new language to little ones, it makes sense the younger they are the simpler it is to pick up nuances of how to interact with kids who are different from them.

The first time Gina responded to my “How are you?” with “I’m fine, how are you?” I nearly fainted. What a moment. While that may be true of “typical” kids, too, this is a whole different scenario. Its impact is hard to explain, something about the normalcy of it when almost nothing with the child in question has felt remotely normal up to this point.

Recently I was sitting in my parents’ spare room with Gina. I sat on the bed while she lounged in a recliner. She looked at me and said, “Can we talk?” I smiled and said, “Yes, what would you like to talk about?” but all the while I was hiding my surprise that she even asked the question. She had found a way to ask for what she wanted.

Her ability to follow through from there required an understanding of autism, though. Anyone could have answered her the way I did. But what happened next was familiar to only those who know Gina. She began to tell me a story, one she’d been telling me over and over for years. She had gone to the flea market with Mommy and Miss Sally. They’d seen her classmate, Gus, who bought a hat there. Gina got a Hello Kitty ring. Afterwards they ate at a nearby diner and she’d had pancakes and bacon. The End.

Again I craved to know how the autistic mind works. I engaged her the way I always do, by going along with her and prompting familiar responses. That’s gold to an autistic child. Familiarity. Comfort. As if it’s all brand new.

As the storylines on Sesame Street unfold, I hope we’ll see Elmo and Abby Cadabby continue to find inroads with Julia so that little viewers will be unfazed in the presence of an autistic child in their classroom or play group.

]]>http://unfetteredexpression.com/culture/new-autistic-girl-block/feed/0A Memoir Request of the Former First Ladyhttp://unfetteredexpression.com/culture/memoir-request-former-first-lady/
http://unfetteredexpression.com/culture/memoir-request-former-first-lady/#respondTue, 28 Mar 2017 21:01:47 +0000http://unfetteredexpression.com/?p=1635Dear Mrs. Obama – I’ve been reading with great interest about the book deal you and President Obama have struck with Penguin Random House for your respective memoirs. Congratulations! With all due respect to your husband (and I have massive amounts of it), it is yours that I cannot wait to read. Oh my, yes. […]

I’ve been reading with great interest about the book deal you and President Obama have struck with Penguin Random House for your respective memoirs. Congratulations!

With all due respect to your husband (and I have massive amounts of it), it is yours that I cannot wait to read.

Oh my, yes.

You’ve been holding back out of necessity for eight-plus years. Now we want to hear what you have to say about everything from the frivolous to the serious. The way I see it, while Barack Obama may be obligated to share with us the official version of things, Michelle Obama has some latitude.

Please use it. Give us scathing truth.

I put a challenge before you. Back in 2010 when I was writing my memoir, I attended a conference where the speakers were the authors Don Miguel Ruiz and Don Jose Ruiz. After the talk, I approached the latter and asked him for one bit of advice on writing a memoir. This is what he said:

Be naked on the page.

Now, granted, that’s a lot easier for a random citizen like me who decided to chronicle a spiritual journey than it is for a former First Lady. You’ve got to walk a fine line. And given your most famous one-liner is now “When they go low, we go high,” you are especially being called upon to figure out how to keep it classy while also keeping it real.

Here’s a thought. Instead of thinking about your memoir solely in the “First Lady” category, perhaps you could ponder the broader genre and why it’s become so popular. Elizabeth Gilbert fell apart on her bathroom floor in Eat, Pray, Love and Cheryl Strayed woke up along the Pacific Crest Trail with little frogs leaping all over her in Wild and Annie Ernaux shared the dread of losing a big part of herself at the thought of having children in The Frozen Woman. What moments will stick with your readers, make them catch their breath, call a friend and read them a passage?

I have some ideas. I know there’s a lot to cover, so these are just off the top of my head to make my point.

Please tell us how a wife reacts when a reality star businessman questions her husband’s citizenship, proves himself in public debates and Tweets to be ignorant of how government works or even what global leadership entails, and then goes on to become President of the United States. Don’t hold back for the sake of decorum. You want to go high? Write it well and bring us along for that ride.

We want to know what it was like to realize your husband’s presidency called for an increase in Secret Service protection because of an uptick in threats, how it felt to be bringing two impressionable girls into that world, what it was like on the days you didn’t feel like being dignified. Tell us if the gardening was sometimes like a little shot of meditation, where you drew energy from when your fellow citizens mocked your looks, what the President did to piss you off on a given day.

Bring us the human, the humane. Draw from the living and the loving. Make us feel the stories you tell because you’re not holding back. Just be Michelle and let’s continue this no-nonsense relationship we’ve got going.

At the moment the nation is still reeling from being led by an empathetic, thoughtful President one minute and a proven narcissist the next. So many of us long for strong voices who can help us make sense of it all, how our country went from being compassionate and reasoned to dismissive of all we hold dear.

Your words are something to look forward to in this dark place we’ve found ourselves dwelling. On one hand I seem to be asking you for truth. On the other I seem to be requesting you tell us everything will be all right, even if you’re not sure.

I think that speaks to the kind of image you’ve cultivated. You seemed to get it right an awful lot of the time on the national stage. Now that you’re in the private sector, can you shine a little of your light our way? Give us inspiration that comes not from an intent to inspire, but from the kind of rawness that can’t help but inspire.

This is one citizen’s perspective of your memoir mission. Thank you for listening and happy writing.

]]>http://unfetteredexpression.com/culture/memoir-request-former-first-lady/feed/0Understanding the Essence of the Artisthttp://unfetteredexpression.com/culture/understanding-essence-artist/
http://unfetteredexpression.com/culture/understanding-essence-artist/#respondTue, 21 Feb 2017 18:00:51 +0000http://unfetteredexpression.com/?p=1630Back in 2000 when Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band were on their Reunion Tour, I caught a couple of those shows at Madison Square Garden. Included in the set list in all 10 sold-out New York concerts was American Skin (41 Shots) and it was met with some controlled hostility from the crowd. […]

]]>Back in 2000 when Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band were on their Reunion Tour, I caught a couple of those shows at Madison Square Garden. Included in the set list in all 10 sold-out New York concerts was American Skin (41 Shots) and it was met with some controlled hostility from the crowd.

The song, written about the shooting of unarmed Amadou Diallo by four NYPD officers, expressed what so many of us wondered – even if a mistake is made and you think a wallet is a gun, how is it possible that so many shots are fired?

Is it a gun?
Is it a knife?
Is it a wallet?
This is your life

I recall thinking how courageous it was for Springsteen to sing it, even in the face of the Patrolmen’s Benevolent Association calling for a boycott. It didn’t feel political so much as humane. All these years later — amidst the throes of my own artistic growth spurts as well as those of my life coaching clients who are mostly creatives — I see it more as necessary than brave. Artists must express. And not just about our broken hearts or sexual hunger or the cool car we had when we were coming of age.

Real artists speak from a soul level to what is eating at us, terrorizing our thoughts, cycling through our consciousness so relentlessly that it needs out. The process isn’t so much about suppressing or pleasing. It’s about releasing and birthing.

That is what has been coming to mind as “awards season” has progressed this year. As I gauged some of the social media reaction during the 2017 Grammy Awards, I thought, here we go again. The primarily conservative ‘why can’t entertainers keep their politics out of things?’ set was out in full force. Oh no, did Katy Perry wear an armband that said “persist” in support of Senator Elizabeth Warren? Did A Tribe Called Quest express displeasure at the Trump administration’s Muslim ban? Cue the people with a stick up their butts.

Just a week before, some of these same people were lauding Lady Gaga for not being political during her Super Bowl performance. They, of course, either missed the significance of beginning with God Bless America and This Land Is Your Land and the rest of her message of inclusiveness and equality for all, or they were down with it because it was expressed in the context of a song as opposed to part of an acceptance speech.

As I watched the Grammys unfold and heard what a variety of artists had decided to express over the course of the evening, I was aware of what was resonating with me. I had felt and related to the searing pain and anger in Beyonce’s Lemonade video, but her Grammy performance about the glory of motherhood was removed from my own happily child-free existence. I loved watching Lady Gaga writhe to heavy metal and to hearing the always-a-bit-tortured Adele open the show. Bruno Mars’ tribute to Prince was electric and my sappy side sang along with Sweet Caroline in Carpool Karaoke form.

All expression. Theirs. Mine. Ours.

The “just sing” or “just act” people seem to think these are robots spitting out neat, tidy performances. They’re missing the risk, imagination, and a whole host of emotions that allow creators to create, whether it’s a chart topper or a bomb. It doesn’t make a difference where the artistic expression ends up; it still comes from a place of vulnerability.

Maybe it’s because more conservatives are pragmatists? Maybe it’s coming from that same place that has them telling peaceful protesters to “get a job” instead of expressing themselves? What’s underneath that? Resentment of their own toeing the line and staying in a job they don’t particularly like? One-dimensional thinking about how our lives should be structured?

But think of it this way. Springsteen couldn’t suppress the lyrics of American Skin any more than he could suppress Rosalita. That feeling of the record contract and seeing his own worth elevated through the eyes of his girlfriend’s father because he got “a big advance.” It’s all part of the art.

These artists, often sarcastically lumped together as the Hollywood elite, have earned the right to make their art and share it. If you don’t like the message, say so. But to keep admonishing them for having opinions as if being famous shuts down a whole component of a person is at odds with what they do. To an artist, an outfit or costume is meaningful. A set design has purpose. Visuals and words are not applied loosely. It’s all message.

At the beginning of the Grammys, Jennifer Lopez quoted Toni Morrison:

This is precisely the time when artists go to work. There is no time for despair, no place for self-pity, no need for silence, no room for fear. We speak, we write, we do language. That is how civilizations heal.

Perhaps those who voted for Donald Trump need to simply face the fact that lots of creatives feel their fellow citizens have saddled the nation with a man-child in the White House and we’re going to push back hard. They can open themselves to art and statements they disagree with. Or they can put themselves in an entertainment-free, art-free cocoon and consume media that will join them in bellyaching about celebrities.

Maybe Mike Huckabee will bust out his guitar and break up the monotony.

]]>http://unfetteredexpression.com/culture/understanding-essence-artist/feed/0Snowflakes with a Consciencehttp://unfetteredexpression.com/culture/snowflakes-with-a-conscience/
http://unfetteredexpression.com/culture/snowflakes-with-a-conscience/#respondFri, 27 Jan 2017 23:58:37 +0000http://unfetteredexpression.com/?p=1621My phone rings at 9:10 a.m. on a Thursday. It’s a dear friend who needs to talk. Problem is, I’m on my way to the doctor because my entire body has broken out in hives. But context is in order, so let’s back up. The week went something like this: Friday, Jan. 20 – I […]

My phone rings at 9:10 a.m. on a Thursday. It’s a dear friend who needs to talk. Problem is, I’m on my way to the doctor because my entire body has broken out in hives.

But context is in order, so let’s back up. The week went something like this:

Friday, Jan. 20 – I take myself to Poets House in Lower Manhattan overlooking the Hudson River and while away an afternoon drinking coffee and reading from a 2003 volume of short stories, poems, and interview snippets from The Paris Review. Divine, glorious experience. The evening gives way to a lively happy hour with friends.

Saturday, Jan. 21 – Participate in the Women’s March on New York City with a smart, determined group of friends, new and old. The night brings the beginnings of the nasty stomach bug that’s making its way around.

Sunday, Jan. 22 – A blur. Lifting my head off the pillow proves challenging. So does keeping anything down, including water.

Monday, Jan. 23 – Light! I can feel myself coming back, slowly. One banana, one piece of toast at a time. I even coach two clients in the evening.

Tuesday, Jan. 24 – The literal purge starts to feel like it should extend to more. I start cleaning out files, creating a list of action items, making sure to rest when needed. It’s a productive day.

Wednesday, Jan. 25 – About 6 a.m. I am awakened by itching that jolts me up. Hives! Wait, hives? I have hives? The itching escalates as the day progresses and I finally cave and buy Benadryl. I get relief within the hour and enjoy a quiet evening.

Thursday, Jan. 26 – Again I am awakened by itching, but this time it’s 2 a.m. and the hives are everywhere. My neck, thighs, forehead, hairline, stomach. They are red and raging. I want to rip off my skin. I take two more Benadryl, finally fall asleep, and then call the doctor first thing.

Now we’re at the point of the phone call from my friend.

But wait, there’s more context.

Did I mention that while I was reading a short story by Lorrie Moore and interview highlights from Vladimir Nabokov at Poets House on Friday, it was also providing a diversion from what was happening simultaneously in Washington, D.C.? Some guy with his hand on a Bible. You get the idea.

Each day from there, something. Like successive smacks in the face that come so fast you have no time to recover from the last. Women’s health. Muslims. The environment. Obamacare. The wall. Public education. Conflicts of interest. Freedom of the press. Then, petitions, phone numbers, calls for action, more action. What or who do I have time to save today? Clean air? Women in third-world countries?

And I wonder why I’m puking up my guts?

See, for many people, what I’ve outlined above would be two separate areas of my life. What’s happening with my physical body and what’s happening in my country and subsequently, the world. But I don’t see it that way. I haven’t for a long time, since September 11, 2001, actually. It was that day that rocked me to my core and that day my world view changed and that day that inspired me to change my entire life.

And it was the ensuing journey that helped me awaken to the fact that it’s all linked, the physical manifestation of what’s happening emotionally. And not just within me, but in the collective. (That journey is chronicled in my memoir called Alive in the Sunshine).

So now I come out of the doctor’s office with instructions to hit the drugstore and as I make the six-block walk, this phrase downloads into my mind: Our government has no conscience, so it’s like our country has no conscience.

Bam. That’s it. Our leadership is soul-less, heartless. And I’m not handling it very well.

My mind goes to the word ‘snowflake’ that’s been bandied about. They’re right. I’m a snowflake. I’m melting at the notion of what I can’t control.

But this is a six-block walk. And somewhere around block five something shifts. Wait, isn’t it a GOOD thing that I can’t handle this? Don’t I want to be empathic, inclusive, humane? Isn’t it a positive thing to want to be led by conscience, heart, soul?

The physical maladies are a temporary setback. They’re a call to action. Get strong. You need to get strong to stand in your beliefs and contribute to this.

Interestingly, I have for the past year or so been in a transition state of some kind. After some satisfying, lucrative freelance gigs ended, I was left to figure out my next chapters. It’s been a rough go on some days, but in the mix I’ve published a book, helped a lot of coaching clients find their voice, and started teaching creative writing to seniors. I believe there’s something else coming and that our national and global circumstances, such as they are, will help me see more clearly where to direct my energy moving forward.

This week I looked up a few things in my copy of Louise Hay’s You Can Heal Your Life and found the results fascinating. She has a chart that explains the holistic meaning of specific physical ailments. First was “stomach issues” and here’s what it says is the probable cause: “Dread. Fear of the new. Inability to assimilate the new.” Bingo. Then I looked up “vomiting” and it said this: “Violent rejection of ideas. Fear of the new.” Uh huh. Hives are also related to fear.

By the time I walked home with my drugstore purchases, I had begun to understand more of what was happening within me and all around me. I called my friend. She sounded low energy. We talked about what was happening in the world, sharing our concerns. She admitted with quiet resignation to doing something very uncharacteristic of her – in a disagreement with a loved one, she had thrown a glass bottle against a wall.

What are the odds that when she called in need of talking about it I was heading out to see a doctor about hives? Why are so many of us flailing, spinning, crying, freaking? What is happening?

]]>http://unfetteredexpression.com/culture/snowflakes-with-a-conscience/feed/0Pussy, Power, and Postagehttp://unfetteredexpression.com/culture/pussy-power-postage/
http://unfetteredexpression.com/culture/pussy-power-postage/#respondFri, 20 Jan 2017 04:34:20 +0000http://unfetteredexpression.com/?p=1614I typically buy postage stamps that say or advocate “love.” It’s my small way of sending love out into the world with each piece of mail, even if it’s a bill. Recently I was standing in line at the post office to buy a sheet of them when I saw a poster advertising Wonder Woman […]

]]>I typically buy postage stamps that say or advocate “love.” It’s my small way of sending love out into the world with each piece of mail, even if it’s a bill.

Recently I was standing in line at the post office to buy a sheet of them when I saw a poster advertising Wonder Woman stamps. I knew I had to make an exception, just this once, and grace my mail instead with a message of female power.

Clearly we’re in a moment.

And you know who is helping me most of all in this moment? Regena Thomashauer, also known as Mama Gena. Maybe she’s the Wonder Woman of the Trump era.

Had you come to me six months ago and said, “Nancy, you’re going to feel like your life is transformed by a book in 2017 and it’s going to be called Pussy: A Reclamation and it’s going to be written by the head of Mama Gena’s School of Womanly Arts,” I would have looked at you with furrowed brow. Huh?

Nothing against Thomashauer and her highly successful business, but I’ve always hated the word pussy. I’ve long preferred the more clinical term vagina. Maybe it’s generational. I don’t know. But back in September I was interviewing a vibrant 20-something musician who extolled the virtues of Mama Gena and so openly talked about her pussy as the center of her femininity, creativity, and power that it intrigued me. She mentioned that the new book was coming out soon.

Keep in mind this is all before the video of Donald Trump talking about grabbing pussy surfaced. His words about women have been triggers for so many of us who have felt at the very least like a thumb is bearing down on our freedom and at the most like sexual assault is going to be taken lightly in the new world order. We’ve gone from feeling “heard” to “silenced” at the very top of our government in the span of one freaky election. A confident feminist man leaves the highest office in the land to make way for an insecure misogynist.

So, yes, I spent New Year’s Day turning the pages of Pussy: A Reclamation like my life depended on it. Isn’t that, after all, the very essence of what we’re marching for on the day after the inauguration?

In the introduction to the book, Thomashauer poses questions about why women seem to have a limited ability to access their power. Her answers center around the fact that “our lights are off” because we’ve been socialized to do that.

“We turn off our life force, turn off our feelings, turn off our sensuality, and as a consequence, we turn off our power,” she writes.

The urgency escalates in the writing that cascades down the page:

“When we live in a world that cannot even comprehend its own inherent bigotry against women — and thus cannot step forward to honor or support the women and girls who have been devastated by it — what is the recourse? How do we stand up to an invisible assault that does not want to be made visible? How does a woman weather — let alone triumph over — such a global denial of her experience?

“How does she locate a pathway to mend, strengthen, and remake herself in a world that does not recognize she is broken?

“How does she turn on when she has been systematically denied, passed over, and subjugated?

“Where is the opportunity in this story line for the victim to become the heroine?

“How do we, as women, reconsecrate our holiness after we have been defiled, turned off, and ignored all our lives?”

Again, I remind you, this was written before the lead-up to the 2016 presidential election. Prescient, yes? It’s worth noting that on the flip side of us turning off our lights, our country just elected a man who turns up the volume on all aspects of who he is; while we are morphing into what society wants us to be, he shies away from no aspect of himself.

Mama Gena’s solution is clear: reconnecting a woman to her pussy.

“Just as pussy is the source of all human life, pussy is the source of each woman’s connection to her own life force, her voice, and her sense of internal power,” she writes. “When a woman turns on her pussy, she is actually turning on her life force and connecting to her divinity.”

This may sound like an intro to a book about orgasms, but it is so much more. Thomashauer is a proponent of pleasure on all fronts, but this book gives us a line into how she came to see it as her life’s work. I was engaged in and inspired by her stories of struggle and determination. I related to some of them, too.

“Living one’s desire is an adventure like no other,” she writes. “There are no safety nets, no seat belts. In fact, when you plight your troth to your desires, you’re kind of asking for it. You’re grabbing the hand of the Great Pussy in the Sky and asking to be broken open. Asking to be remade. Asking for the current version of you to be shattered and reassembled into the woman you were born to become.”

I think this moment in our country is calling us to this. I’ve spoken to women who are feeling broken open. The more awake among us feel we’ll turn a corner and see this as an opportunity and even a call to something greater. For now we’re still slogging along as if underwater, lost and dazed.

“It takes no courage at all to feel pathetic; it’s so easy to do,” Thomashauer writes. “The thing that takes courage is to choose radiance when you’re not feeling it.”

This is our true call. Let Thomashauer crystallize it for us:

“I’d heard of people who had valiantly endured troubles, which was, itself, a slight improvement over complaining about their trials and tribulations. (The latter being the way of my own heritage.) But to profit from hardship? To actually create living poetry from an impossible set of difficulties? To greet the worst-case scenario as if it were a gift? Now that was interesting.”

Lots of us believe we’re in a worst-case scenario, right? Imagine being able to see it as a gift? What would that look like? A harnessing of power that rises upward and doesn’t stay mired in desperation and anger. We have our work cut out for us.

“The world is hungry for new ideas, and the voice of the radiant feminine is the voice of transformation in our lifetime,” Thomashauer writes. “Women are the greatest untapped natural resource on this planet.”

It seemed significant that the post office was out of Wonder Woman stamps. I had to settle for continuing to spread love.

]]>http://unfetteredexpression.com/culture/pussy-power-postage/feed/0An Open Letter to Kellyanne Conwayhttp://unfetteredexpression.com/culture/open-letter-kellyanne-conway/
http://unfetteredexpression.com/culture/open-letter-kellyanne-conway/#commentsFri, 13 Jan 2017 20:53:38 +0000http://unfetteredexpression.com/?p=1609Dear Kellyanne – I saw your recent segment on AC 360 where you lamented that Donald Trump’s pre-inauguration coverage isn’t as celebratory as it has been in the past for other Presidents-elect. You seemed mystified, saying “We get no respect.” We both know you’re smarter than that, don’t we? But OK, I’ll play along. Let’s […]

I saw your recent segment on AC 360 where you lamented that Donald Trump’s pre-inauguration coverage isn’t as celebratory as it has been in the past for other Presidents-elect. You seemed mystified, saying “We get no respect.” We both know you’re smarter than that, don’t we?

But OK, I’ll play along. Let’s talk about why the press might be focusing on something other than who Melania is wearing to the inaugural ball.

For the record, I’m going to base my characterizations here on the President-elect’s own words in context. That’s in debates, his recent press conference, and, of course, on Twitter. I’m going to stick with temperament over policy.

While his tux is being prepped for celebration, most (yes, most) of the American people are alternately numb, grieving, angry, frightened and flummoxed by his ongoing behavior since the Presidential election in November. We are wondering how this happened. And while our brains tell us there are a series of reasons he won and that we need to go “within” and examine our own role in this, we cannot help but think we’ve given voice to people who opted to elect a dangerously arrogant, thin-skinned man with no moral center because he figured out what they want to hear.

This isn’t about losing an election, as much as you want to make it that simple. We’re trying to reconcile how our neighbors, family and friends could ignore the myriad ways he has shown himself to be unfit to lead a nation as powerful as the United States.

Back to your interview with Anderson Cooper, though. BuzzFeed decides to publish an unverified document containing potentially damaging, salacious material about the President-elect, and aside from all the debate on whether releasing it was a good idea, I ask you, why were so many people ready to believe it? You think those were all Democrats? You know why, Kellyanne. Because your boss has shown himself to be the kind of person who would do it. Plus, with regard to the part about the Obamas, it was believable because he spent an awful lot of time trying to discredit the President with his birther obsession. To boot, lots of us didn’t even care about the sexual component; we were (and are) more concerned about how easily he can be blackmailed and put all our lives in jeopardy. Clearly this is not keeping him up at night.

Also troubling, each time something negative comes out about this man, and we all know it will continue, he has given us reason to ponder whether it could be due to any number of groups he’s pissed off:

~ Most of the Republican elite (the Bushes would take this guy down in a heartbeat), not all of whom will admit their disdain for fear of their own jobs.

~ Our intelligence agencies. He has had no qualms about discrediting them.

~ Some of our military leaders because, hey, he’s smarter than most of them.

~ Mexico, China, Russia … a few countries just to get the list started.

~ Democrats for obvious reasons.

All of this before he even raises his hand to the Bible. All of this.

And we’re supposed to demand from our press that they get on that hot topic of what color Ivanka will be wearing to the ball?

Get over yourself, Kellyanne. Anderson Cooper knows you’re a fast talker trying to do a job. He treats you with respect. But you want him to engage in fluff with you after that orchestrated debacle of a press conference with its piles of paper and the pomposity of the President-elect? (Btw, can you pass on to him that, yeah, I believe Hillary would be much better at handling Putin than him. Being a bloviator doesn’t make him strong on foreign policy; it makes him sound weak and insecure. Maybe you could tell him that the fact that he’s even still mentioning her name makes him look like he can’t get her out of his rearview mirror.)

Stop the put-upon act, Kellyanne. I’m from Jersey, too. We can sniff out B.S. a mile away.

I sure hope you’ve found a pretty frock for the upcoming festivities, what with all the damage control you’ve been doing since the day you were hired. Maybe get a matching umbrella for the ongoing shit storm.